


a place to find trust

by WhatICantShowYou



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Communication, Communication Failure, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26771302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatICantShowYou/pseuds/WhatICantShowYou
Summary: “Ah, shit. Fuck- Didn’t see you, dear witcher. I apologise, must be the ale...” Geralt watched the bard intently as he trailed off, instead filling the silence with a pleased hum as he finished up his business. “You know, if you’re free for the night, then I do have a cozy bed just a few doors away that the two of us could share.”Or; Geralt struggles to get by and is taken in by a bard, but unsure how he feels about whoring himsef out. Don’t worry, they figure it out.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 186





	a place to find trust

**Author's Note:**

> Was prompted “Geralt as a frightened sex worker?” with a Jaskier calming him down when he realises it.

It’s unthankful being a witcher, few people dignifying him their looks as he walks through the tight streets of the city. Geralt prefers it though, rather than having townspeople chase him out before he even makes a noise or snarling his way with “ _butcher_ ” spat out like poison as he passes. He knows better than to make a scene, leaving the taverns the moment he enters and the scent of hatred makes his gut churn. It’s the third of the evening, the city big but far from bustling enough to house any more. He had already paid the last of his coin on a place for Roach to stay, overpriced due only to his eyes and mutations and shunned away before anyone saw the main lead his mare across the gravel. There was no time to even ask if he could just sleep next to her, already knowing the answer before the question got to his head. Instead he wandered on, scouting for any corner to call home for the night.

Geralt found a small alleyway crammed between an inn and a whorehouse, figuring the trash and stashed away firewood a sufficient hiding place for a few hours and ducked in, settling himself against the cold wall and ground. If he was lucky he could spend a few hours meditating, perhaps even getting a minute to sleep. With a sigh, he cleared his head and retreated into his mind.

It was barely an hour later that he was forcefully dragged back into reality, the cold and damp air clinging to him through his clothes as he silently cursed whoever was there to throw him out. Instead he saw a surprised man, cock out and ready to take a leak.

“Ah, shit. Fuck-“ The man was dressed in too many colours, a feathered bonnet upon his head and a lute strapped to his back. He stepped to the side, angling himself away from the objects Geralt used to hide himself as he continued on with his business. “Didn’t see you, dear witcher. I apologise, must be the ale...”

Geralt watched the man intently as he trailed off, instead filling the silence with a pleased hum as he finished up his work. Tucking himself back into his clothes, the man turned to once more look at the other crammed into the corner of the alley, eyebrow raised.

“You okay there? I mean, do not mistake my words, but I would figure you got more sleep inside? A brothy meal, warm bed and a lady by your side, you know?” The bard - because there was no way this humanised version of a peacock was _not_ a bard - smiled and sidestepped to get a better look at him. Geralt huffed, not in the mood to explain the politics of xenophobia to someone tipsy enough to almost soak him in his piss. He would have assumed the man was mocking him if not for the scent of genuine curiosity wafting off of him.

“Oh, perhaps I am mistaken then? I do apologise, dear witcher, would a man better suit your bed?” The bard had obviously mistaken his huff for humour, but Geralt couldn’t bring himself to correct him. His thoughts lingered on a warm bed and a hot meal weighing his empty stomach down, almost missing the moment the bard continued. “You know if you’re free for the night, which - once again do not mistake my words for mockery - you seem to be, then I do have a cozy bed just a few doors away that the two of us could share.”  


His immediate reaction was to question the man’s motives, scanning the empty street behind him for any sign of threat or trickery. When he came up empty handed, Geralt focused back on the man before him, slowly rising to his feet. A delighted purr came from the other, his eyes wandering with hunger over the witcher’s frame as he took a step back, waiting for Geralt to follow along.

“The name is Jaskier,” he introduced himself with a shallow bow as the two cleared the corner of the alley, Jaskier leading him inside the inn through a side entrance. Geralt hummed in reply, trying his best to stay away from the looks of other patrons as they made their way up a steep stairway. If anyone saw the two, they didn’t acknowledge it. Was it this easy to get treated less like an animal? Was all he needed a human following him around and pawing at his clothes?

The man, Jaskier, locked the door behind them as they entered the small room, studying the witcher before him with a content smile.

“Oh, my dear, please undress.” Geralt followed the orders without a word, knowing he was in no place to argue. The man was offering the closest to humanity he had felt in years, Geralt already feeling indebted to him. He dropped his clothes unceremoniously on the floor next to him, hands stuttering for a second as he was down to his smallclothes. Jaskier was attentive, he noted, for he closed the distance between them to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“First time? You can keep them on,” he smiled and let his hands roam Geralt’s torso, making small, delighted noises at the bulge of muscle rippling under his fingers. He leaned in, voice rough and needy as he continued. “At least for now.”

Directing the witcher to sit down on the bed, the bard undressed himself quickly, folding his own garments neatly and placing them on a chair next to him. All the while he chatted, eyes staring hungrily at Geralt’s body as he praised his form. He stuttered to a stop suddenly before erupting in a cheery chuckle, stalking across the room to cradle Geralt’s face in his hands, pressing his body close and nursing his chin against the hairs on his abdomen. He guided Geralt’s eyes to his, smiling and shaking his head as he spoke.

“Where are my manners? Truly, I do apologise for forgetting, dear witcher, so please forgive me. I haven’t even asked for your name!” Jaskier gave him an expectant look, a smile parting his face as his thumb gently stroked over his cheekbone. Geralt considered for a moment to lie, to make up a name for the man to moan until the night was over, but before he could stop himself he had blurted it out, inwardly cursing himself.

“Oh,” the bard said, recognition slowly rolling over his face. That was it, Geralt thought, now he had blown it. He saw the word _butcher_ form on Jaskier’s lips but never uttered, then felt the soothing stroke of a thumb against his cheek once again.

“It’s a beautiful name. _Geralt_.”

Could names be a sin, then Jaskier managed to make his own one. The way he wet his lips moments before letting the syllables slip fromthem, his voice dripping with lust as the snap of his tongue ended his name. A shudder went through him as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Jaskier guided him to lay on his back on the bed, hands once again roaming his skin as he took it all in, eyes lidded with need and his scent so dense with desire that it took effort not to let it make his head spin. Geralt didn’t protest when his smallclothes were pulled away and discarded, instead focusing on the purr rising in the bard’s chest at the sight of his flaccid member.

“So the rumours are true,” he mused, not waiting for an answer as his fingers enveloped the shaft. He tugged a few times, relishing in the way Geralt came undone before him. “ _Gods_ , I hope you are up for more than one round.”

Geralt was taken back with the grip on his hips urging him to turn over, clumsily following along as he stood to his hands and knees. He had just enough power to keep his frame from shaking, his muscles working hard to keep him in control. Jaskier bent across him and reached for a small bottle on the bedside table, uncorking it and pouring a generous amount down his arse. The cold liquid made Geralt falter for a second, a shudder going through him as he tried to relax. He could do this, could be a good boy for one night.

A hum escaped the bard as his fingers gently prodded at his entrance, Geralt stopping himself from looking back at him to see what expression he was making. It was all too much already, his senses going into overdrive as the man - hell, the absolute _stranger_ \- slipped two fingers inside of him.

His arms gave out and he feel face first into the pillow, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. If he just stayed like this, he could do it, could keep his muscles in control and ride it all out. Jaskier stopped for a moment, the tips of his fingers just barely inside as he stayed silent. With another hum he slipped a finger out, using just one to gently enter.

Down to the last knuckle, the bard once more stilled. With the smallest motions he prodded the witcher’s insides, stretching him so very slowly as his other hand rubbed soothing circles on the small of his back. He pulled back halfway before sinking back in, over and over until there was no resistance left. Then, he pulled out to the very tip, another finger joining in next to it before applying pressure once again. Geralt bit his lip, willing himself to relax at the intrusion and let out a shaky breath as the other digit popped inside. The whole process repeated, minutes passing by as Jaskier opened him up.

Geralt tried his very best to stay good and open, relaxed all the way to his core as the other worked his magic. He thought that the longer it went on, the easier it would get, but he was wrong. The looser his hole stretched, the more obscene noises filled the air around them, slick squelches of liquid being a constant reminder of what he was doing, who he was letting himself be used by. He would have been fine had it been a friend, a lover, anyone but a man who took pity on him on the street. A stranger who picked up the scraps of a tired man and was now fingering him open on his bed. A sob slipped between his lips before he could stop it, Geralt suddenly acutely aware of how badly his thighs were trembling.

The fingers inside of him pulled back once more, but this time exited him completely in a gentle and slow way. The pattern laid out before him, Geralt braced for a third digit, inhaling shakily and holding his breath. It never came though, instead all that there were was the soothing circles on the small of his back and shuffling behind him. Geralt let out the breath he was holding, hitching for just a second as he felt something touch his backside once more.

“I’m sorry, Geralt, it’s just a towel. I should have warned you, please forgive me.” Jaskier’s voice was low and comforting, tender and loving as he wiped his skin with the fabric. Geralt turned back to take a look, Jaskier grimacing as his eyes fell upon the unshed tears and bitten lip. He stuttered out an apology of his own, turning back to burrow his head into the pillow once more as he asked the man to continue, that he would _be better this time, I promise._

Jaskier finished up the cleaning with haste before guiding the witcher‘s knees down, slowly prompting him to turn over to his back before sitting the man up against the headboard. He tucked a blanket over Geralt’s lower body before straddling his thighs, the witcher thankful for the thin fabric between them.

“I assumed it was just nerves, Geralt. My mistake, please do forgive me,” Jaskier mumbled as his thumbs gently stroked just beneath his eyes, prompting the tears to fall silently so he could thumb them away. He kept his distance despite being sat upon him, not inching closer but not moving away, just hovering at the perfect distance as Geralt gathered himself. “I should have asked you. Hell, I should have know from the way you were trembling in my hands...”

Jaskier shook his head and fell silent, Geralt not liking the way he was beating himself up over it. The witcher was fully capable of telling him himself, asking him to slow down or stop for a moment so he could get his bearings. He shook his head as well, hands rising to remove the bard’s tender grip on his cheeks. He listened to his movements, letting his hands fall to their sides as he locked eyes with Geralt.

“We can try again,” he started, voice unsteady as he averted his gaze. He had no idea how, but he could make it work. He could fist his soft cock to hardness and spread his legs again for the man, be good and pliant so he could use him for the night. A gentle voice brought him back to the room, the pressure of the man against his thighs grounding him as the bard smiled at him soothingly.

“My dear, we could halt this whole ordeal instead.” Geralt opened his mouth to protest but has shunned by a hand to his hip, another gently reaching for an edge of the blanket to cover himself up the smallest amount. It was no show of power, no intention to come of as the one in charge of who got to decide their state of undressing. It was a reminder of humbleness, a statement of his words as he closed the chapter to their coupling.

“You should rest, Geralt. I assume the path is not gentle upon a man in these times.” Jaskier trailed his free hand up his torso, this time not searching for anything in particular, just mapping out his skin under his calloused palms. It was slow, asking for permission for every inch he covered and ready to cease all movement if the smallest hint of resistance was shown. Geralt let him, leaned into the touch as his muscles relaxed.

“I should leave,” he muttered, once again averting his eyes to stare at the door. He was no good as a whore, better suited in the corner of the alley the man had found him in. A chuckle rang out between them, not mocking but friendly as the bard humoured himself at his words.

“I rather much have a warm bed to share than an empty one, dear.” Meeting his eyes, Geralt saw the question masked in his statement, nodding slowly in agreement. He could spare the night with the kind man, then take his leave as dawn crested and continue on his path. The bard wouldn’t even have to know he left, just wake up to resume his life with the knowledge he saved Geralt a night in the streets.

The two settled down in bed, Jaskier tidying up the sheets to his best abilities before handing the witcher his smallclothes. Geralt put them in without a word, a thankful smile barely visible as the bard did the same. The blanket covered the two and Geralt turned to his side, eyes locked on the wall in front of him as his eyes drifted close. He froze for a moment as an arm looped around his waist, a kiss to his ear asking for his blessing and a delighted “ _thank you_ ,” mumbled as he nodded. He nuzzled closer into the embrace before letting exhaustion take over his worn body and sleep take him to rest. 

* * *

Geralt awoke far later than anticipated, his entire being more rested and calm than he could remember he had ever been. The blankets were draped over his form and he moved his feet slowly to feel it brush against his skin gently. Where had been a warm body but a few hours before was now empty air, Geralt letting out a shaky sigh as he missed something he had never before had.

He turned to his back when the door opened, the well dressed bard entering the room in clothes an even worse strain to the eyes than the evening before. He held a tray of bowls and tankards, humming a tune as he closed the door behind him gently. The sound ceased as his eyes fell upon the witcher, a smile creeping up his features as he stalked closer.

“Oh, you’re awake! I dearly wish I was not the one to rouse you from your rest, my dear,” he said, placing the tray upon the bedside table and dipping the mattress beneath his weight as he took a seat. Geralt shook his head and sat up himself, back against the headboard much similar to the way he had been last night. A bowl of stew and a generous side of bread was handed to him, his tongue tied as he accepted it without question.

“Eat up! Got offered refills from the lady downstairs if I so needed it, so have your fill.” He scooped up the content of the bowl on a piece of bread as stuffed it into his mouth, smiling as he swallowed it down before continuing. “Between you and me, I think she has the sweets for a young bard to give her some action. No wonder when she is tied to the grumpy man at the bar, am I right?”

Geralt scoffed at the bard’s laughter, a smile creeping up his own lips as he swallowed down his meal. It had been long since he had the opportunity to fill his stomach, it already growling as the first pieces of newly baked bread settled inside of him.

“I wouldn’t take married women to bed, if I were you,” Geralt smiled, a chuckle escaping him as the bard choked on his food.

“Oh, that’s far too late, my dear. I actually planned to escape the city as soon as possible before the barman realised his wife had made him a cuckold!”

Geralt barked out his laughter before continuing his meal, wolfing down what was left before his stomach could tell him to stop. The two sat in silence for a while before Geralt rose to dress himself, hoisting his bag across his shoulder as he stood to leave. Jaskier scrambled to his feet to halt him, a hand gripping his wrist as he searched for the witcher’s gaze.

“You know, I could use a someone like you by my side,” he started, falling silent as he awaited a response. Geralt studied him for a moment, swallowing hard as he tried to say no, that no one needed a man like him. Instead, he steadied his stance and wet his lips before speaking.

“A witcher?”

“Anyone, really.” Jaskier’s eyes were sincere, not demanding his presence but rather asking for the opportunity. Geralt let out a huff as he relaxed his shoulders, nodding slowly. Distantly he could hear rumbling, a man shouting and slamming has hands against the bar as a woman tried to calm him down.

“I assume the man downstairs is not the only one out for your head?”

A quick jerk to his head from the bard made Geralt laugh again, his hand already on the sheathed sword as he heard heavy footsteps climb the stairs.

“I accept your offer,” he said simply before the door burst open behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop by my tumblr @whaticannotshowyou for more content and to send prompts! And please comment if you found anything to your liking!


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